The Good Daughter (12 page)

“You know baseball.”

“My younger brother, Tommy, played growing up and I went
to most of his games. He had a scholarship to Fresno State and then was drafted by the Brewers, but after a couple years bouncing around the minor leagues, he left ball to become a fireman. Like my dad.”

“Four girls, one boy,” he said, counting up her siblings. “And the sister in Africa? What does she do?”

“She’s a nurse.”

“Impressive family.”

“What about you?” Kit asked, turning the focus on to him. “Big family, small family? Brothers, sisters…?”

“Two sisters. No brothers. Haven’t seen the girls in a couple years. One’s married to a guy in the military and they move around a lot. The other…she’s got some problems.”

The waitress cleared their plates and cutlery and returned to set fresh silverware in front of them for their entrées.

“Have you ever been married?” Kit asked after the waitress moved away.

Michael drummed his fingers on the table, nodded after a moment. “Yes. Until recently, as a matter of fact.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been hard.”

His expression was troubled—grieved—and Kit’s heart suddenly went out to him. The divorce had clearly been painful. “How long have you been divorced?”

He hesitated a long moment. “It’s actually not final yet.”

“You’re still married?”

“No, we’re separated, and papers are filed, but it hasn’t been finalized.”

Kit’s brows tugged. Which meant he was still legally married. “When does that happen?”

“Soon. End of this month.” He studied her, his expression regretful. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“A little,” she admitted. “I’m Catholic.”

“And divorce is a sin?”

“Divorce isn’t good.”

His blue eyes locked with hers and held. He looked frustrated. “I shouldn’t have called you. I should have known better.” He got to his feet, dropped his napkin onto the table. “Let’s forget this. Call it a night before—”

“What are you doing?” Kit whispered, aware that people were looking at them.

“I’m not going to make you uncomfortable.”

But he
was
making her uncomfortable. He was so tall and there was so little space between tables and everyone could hear everything that was being said. “Please sit down,” she urged him.

“I didn’t invite you out tonight to make you uncomfortable or to compromise your values.”

Kit reached out to him, her fingers brushing his forearm. “Michael.” Her voice dropped. “Sit. Please.”

“I don’t take advantage of women, Kit.”

“I never said you did.” She glanced left, right, and then up at him. “Sit…please?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. There wasn’t much more she could say or do. She hated the scene, hated this awkward, uncomfortable feeling. Conflict had never been her strong suit.

But fortunately, finally, Michael did sit, though he wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he stared off, his jaw set, his gaze narrowed. He was upset. She’d upset him. She hated that, just as she hated the way her heart pounded and her stomach was nervous, filled with tumbling pebbles.

“Talk to me,” Kit murmured, wanting to leave but unable to walk away from someone who was unhappy with her.
“Please.”

He took a slow breath and then looked at her. “You make me feel like a criminal…a murderer or a rapist. I’m just going through a divorce, and it’s not an easy thing. I don’t enjoy this. I’m not happy that my marriage ended.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And maybe I should have told you about the separation sooner, but it’s personal. Private. I’m not proud of my situation and wasn’t raised to air dirty laundry in public.”

“I understand.” And she did. Her family was private, too. You didn’t discuss family matters with outsiders. “I’m just glad you’re telling me now.”

He nodded once, and then again. “But I should have known. Should have realized. So many women don’t care. They don’t have your morals and scruples. They just want a lay. A good time. You’re different. I like that about you.”

She drew back, discomfited by his reference to a lay and a good time, thinking it was such an odd choice of words for a man to say to a woman. No male in her family would speak that way in front of a woman, but the men in her family were old-fashioned, and traditional, protective of women. “So when is the divorce final?”

“Couple weeks.”

Couple weeks. Fourteen days.

“You still don’t like it,” he said.

No, she didn’t, not at all, but she didn’t think it would help anyone, or anything, to focus on that now. “Friends don’t judge, right?”

“We’re more than friends.”

What an awkward evening,
she thought.

“Kit?” he murmured, looking for confirmation.

She couldn’t give it to him. They’d only just met. And she didn’t understand how he could want so much from her. It didn’t help that he was staring at her so intently. “This is just our first date, Michael.”

“But I feel such a connection with you.”

“You’re married.”

“Not for much longer.”

“But as long as you’re married, we’re just friends.”

“No more dates?”

“No.”

His lips curled. “You’re that good?”

“It’s not about being good. It’s my faith.”

“Your faith rules your life?”

The knot of tension in her shoulders eased. She breathed a little deeper, growing more comfortable. When it came to her faith, Kit knew who she was, knew what she believed, and finally felt as if she was standing on solid ground again. “I wouldn’t say
rules,
but my faith shapes it. Faith is a huge part of my life. I grew up attending parochial school. Teach in a Catholic school. I still go to Mass every Sunday.”

“By choice?”

She laughed, amused. “Of course. I take it you don’t go to church.”

“Not recently. I used to. I was raised in the Church. My mom was very religious. A little too religious, if you ask me.” He studied her for a long moment, his blue gaze assessing. “You like teaching?”

“I love teaching…most of the time.”

“What would you do if you didn’t teach?”

Kit considered the possibilities. At twenty, the world had been full of so many possibilities. At forty, there seemed fewer opportunities. “I used to think I’d enjoy being a librarian, but now it’s all about technology and I’d hate that. So I don’t know.”

“Jon’s ex teaches at the same school you do?”

“Jon?”

“Coleman. He’s my neighbor. I was out with him that night at Z’s.”

That’s right. Jon, Polly’s schmuck boyfriend who took credit for Polly’s success and stole her biggest account from her all while sleeping with her. Nice. It was all Kit could do not to roll her eyes. “Yes,” she said instead. “Polly and I teach together at Memorial.”

“Why teach?” Michael persisted.

Kit shrugged. “Why not change the world?”

They dropped the discussion of marriage, divorce, and faith there, but later, while they were finishing dinner, Kit couldn’t stifle her curiosity. “Do you still love her?” she asked. “Your wife?”

Michael looked at her blankly a moment. “My wife? What about her?”

“Do you love her?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone,” he retorted, smiling tightly.

“Sorry…I was just wondering what she was like.”

His fingers tapped against his water glass, making it ping. “She’s sweet.”

“Why didn’t the marriage work?”

He didn’t answer right away and she got the sense that he didn’t like the questions. Didn’t like talking about his marriage. She couldn’t blame him. She knew she was being nosy. She was asking personal questions, but wanted to understand Michael, wanted to know why this good-looking man with broad shoulders and clear blue eyes was about to be single again.

“It’s complicated,” he said roughly.

She nodded, waited.

“She was married before,” he added. “Has a teenage daughter. Missy has custody of Dee, so it’s not easy. Teenage girls aren’t always easy.” He looked up into her eyes and smiled wryly. “But then, I’m sure you understand this better than me. You’re a teacher. You’re with kids all day long.”

“You don’t get along with Dee?”

“I used to. When she was younger.”

Kit heard the wistful note in his voice. “How old is she?”

“Fifteen.”

Her eyebrows lifted. That explained a lot of things. “That’s a tough age,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always said my sophomores were the hardest group to teach. As freshmen, the kids are still relatively cute and eager to please, but they come back the next year and think they know everything.”

“
Exactly
. She’s so mouthy.”

“Mouthy or withdrawn. I have students who don’t talk at all. And if they do, they act like they’re doing me a big favor.”

He fell back in his chair, stunned. “You
know
.”

She smiled sympathetically. “So you see, it’s not you. And I know it doesn’t help, but this isn’t about you. She’s a teenager and full of hormones and hopes and dreams.”

“She needs to learn it’s not all about her.”

“She will eventually. It won’t always be this way.”

“That’s what Missy says.”

“I have a friend who married a man with three children, two of whom are teenagers, and they’re giving her a really hard time.”

“So what is your friend going to do?”

“Try to be patient. Keep talking through things. Hang on to that sense of humor.”

He made a rough sound. “You’re suggesting I get back with my wife?”

“I just think if you still love her, don’t give up on your marriage.”

“And if I don’t?”

“That’s easy.” Kit shrugged. “Don’t do anything and your divorce will be final in a couple weeks.”

A
fter dessert and coffee, Michael walked her to her car. “I really enjoyed tonight, Kit. Thank you for staying with me and having dinner.”

She fished in her purse for her car keys. “I’m glad I stayed, too.”

“Even though I’m an evil, married man?”

She knew he was teasing her but she got that uneasy feeling in her gut again. “I never called you evil.”

“You made me feel like I was evil.”

“I never meant to do that.”

“Well, I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“So does that mean we can get together again soon?” he asked.

Kit frowned and looked up at him, seeing how the streetlight illuminated his straight nose and high brow. He was athletic and handsome and attractive, but he left her cold. He was too confident. Arrogant. “You’re married, Michael.”

“Not for long.”

“You’re still in love with your wife. Work it out with her.”

“You’re rejecting me?”

“I’m telling you to focus on your family.”

He took a step closer to her. His head dropped, and the corner of his mouth curled. “Maybe I want to focus on you.”

He was really tall and he was now standing so close that she felt crowded. Kit took a step back, bumped into her car. “Good night, Michael.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

He reached out to touch her arm. “I give you permission to go out with me again.”

Kit arched an eyebrow. “Now, that’s strange.”

“Come on. You know you women never make a decision without consulting a half-dozen girlfriends. You’ve got to get everybody’s opinion, need everybody to weigh in. I’m just saving you time and energy.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“I am a very thoughtful person.”

He was smiling at her in a way that said he liked her, that he found her desirable, but underneath the playful banter she sensed that he was serious. He’d like to make decisions for her. He probably liked to make decisions for everyone. “I have to go.”

“So next Saturday?”

“No.”

“You want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Michael.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Michael.”

“I’ll call you,” he repeated, and then winked. “And then we’ll make plans for Saturday.”

I
n the car, Kit clutched the steering wheel, feeling more than a little dazed and confused as she drove to her parents’ house.

What had just happened?

What a strange night, and an even stranger date. The evening had been uncomfortable at times, and mildly enjoyable at others, but it was by no means a great evening. She certainly didn’t feel compelled to see Michael ever again. But Michael certainly seemed compelled to prove her wrong.

Weird.

Arriving at her parents’ home, she discovered the house was dark. Kit quietly let herself in through the front door with her key, but once inside, found her dad in the den watching TV. “Hey, honey,” he said, rising from his big leather La-Z-Boy chair when she entered the room.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Mom sleeping?” she asked.

“She went to bed a couple hours ago.”

“She okay?”

“She’s fine. She just doesn’t have a lot of energy.”

“Is this cruise a good idea?”

“It’s what she wants.”

“I worry that it’ll be too much for her.”

“Where did you go for dinner?” he asked, sitting back down, changing the topic. Dad didn’t talk about things he didn’t want to discuss. He never had. He never would.

“Millennium. On Geary.”

“They used to be in a different location, didn’t they?”

“Apparently.”

“Good food?”

“Very good.”

She sat down on the couch, curled her legs under her, and watched her dad watch TV. He appeared engrossed in the show and she wondered if this was how it’d be later, when Mom was gone. If he’d sit here every night and watch TV, allowing himself to be absorbed in whatever was on so he didn’t have to think about being alone. And maybe he’d be fine. Maybe he’d do better than any of them.

She watched him for another moment and then rose. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Tired?”

“I am. Nine-thirty Mass?”

“And then we’ll go to brunch after.”

“I was going to make breakfast.”

“Let’s see what the weather’s like. If it’s nice, I think your mom would enjoy getting out. She’s feeling a little cooped up lately.”

“Just let me know in the morning. I can always grab some groceries on the way home from church.” She kissed the top of his head, grabbed her overnight bag from the hall, and headed upstairs
to her childhood bedroom, a bedroom that somehow managed to make her feel like that little girl who preferred fairy tales and happily-ever-after endings far more than reality.